


Quarters

by cl2y



Series: The Bastard and the Duke [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Blue Balls, Do not worry friendos, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Not Beta Read, Nothing happens between Prosper and Cyril, Orgasm Denial, PWP, or is it just
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-08 04:01:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6838285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cl2y/pseuds/cl2y
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Copping off with the Duke's son always seemed like a good idea, copping of with the Duke though, that was in another league entirely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quarters

Jean-Esmeral had spent the majority of the afternoon with his tongue down Cyril’s throat. He had pressed him up against the stable walls and let him fuck his hand. Cyril hadn’t returned the favour. Jean had been stood awkwardly with a handful of come, and an erection in his breeches, _Selfish prick,_ and Cyril had the gall to request to see him later, and had even given him directions to his quarters. Jean couldn’t remember half of them. He was not a scout by any means, but he could wing it, surely.

Evidently, as the time came about, Jean-Esmeral could not wing it. So here he stood naked, at Cyril’s instructions, both hands clasped around his manhood, in Duke Prosper’s quarters, with Duke Prosper staring at him. After he had just announced that _I’ve been waiting too long Cyril, what has kept you?_

“Waiting for my son. Yes?”

“No, My Lord, Ser, Duke, I am waiting for Cy _role_ , a noblewoman here, visiting, briefly.”

“Oh Cyrole? Why didn’t you say? Her quarters are just down the hall.”

“You have my thanks, My Lord.” Jean made to grab his clothes, gathering them to protect his modesty, as he felt the door swing shut. The breeze awfully cool against his tawny flesh, _Bollocks._ “Duke I, honestly, this was a mistake, Cyril he, I mean, I told-asked him-”

“Stop.”

“Apologies.” Jean muttered, he flexed his fingers inside the bundle of clothes he was carrying, squirming under Prosper’s gaze, Maker this couldn’t be any more embarrassing.

“You came here to sleep with my son, no?” Prosper hummed, stepping closer and bowing to meet Jean’s gaze. He swallowed his tongue and nodded, sucking and biting at his cheek. “Drop your clothes.”

“Ser?”

“Drop. Them.” The rush of jewelled clothes landing on the floor echoed in the room. He covered himself once more with his hands, shifting his weight from one leg to the other, and gaining a new found fascination with the decorative painted ceiling. Duke Prosper stepped closer, gloved fingers tugging at his forearm to pull it away from his nudity. Jean felt his skin prickle as Prosper’s eyes roamed over him, devouring every inch of him. “Your name?”

“Lord Jean-Esmeral.” He whispered, swallowing audibly, and flexing his toes against the plush carpet underneath his feet. “I’m the bastard son of-”

“I know who you are.” He tittered. Jean swallowed again, feeling his stomach and face burn as Prosper circled him, a leather covered hand trailing across his mid-back and forearms. “Now, as you were so very well prepared to sleep with my son, I think you’ll sleep with me instead.”

“Ser?” Jean turned, heart thrumming in his chest as Prosper moved to sit on the plush high backed chair in the corner of the room. Legs spreading as he relaxed, one hand coming up to lean his head against. He pointed at the overtly large bed which sat in the centre of the room entrapped by full length stained glass windows. Jean stood for a moment, his legs numb and a fire simmering in his belly, he tapped his thigh twice and stepped over to the bed.

“Continue.” Prosper said shifting his weight and stance so he may have a better view.

“I… I need oil of some sort.” Jean gestured loosely, one hand curling between his thighs and thumbing at the head of his flaccid member. The Duke waved at the small cabinet beside the bed. He gracelessly shuffled back on the bed, hardening cock in hand, fishing out a small jar of some kind of oil and pressing the drawer shut. He heard Prosper shuffle once more, heard the thump of his heels as he readjusted. Jean unwound the string from the jar slowly and pulled out the cork stopper, inhaling the scent of elfroot and letting some dribble onto his fingers. He replaced the jar and sat once more on the edge of the bed. Prosper hummed at him. One hand hiding his smirk and the other letting his fingers dance across his breeches.

Jean spread his legs as he lay back. He slathered the oil around his fingers, one hand tugging on his cock and the other cupping his balls. He sighed as he felt warmth spread along his thighs. Truly he had no interest in Cyril, the man was an idiot but he was still the son of a Duke. But the Duke himself was stronger, and smarter, and age hadn’t hindered him in any way. Jean moaned and sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, gripping his cock harder and slipping the tip of his forefinger inside himself. He could hear Prosper breathing heavy through his nose, and the clink of a belt buckle being loosened. He pressed his finger in fully, groaning at the sensation and sparing a glance toward the Duke. One hand was cupped around the swell in his breeches, and his belt had been opened. Jean tugged himself faster, sliding a second into himself and thrusting and curling them slowly.

Prosper unlaced his breeches with Jean’s eyes on him, and hooked his underthings beneath his balls, displaying his half hard cock proudly. Jean whimpered at the sight, pushing himself back on the bed so he could plant his feet on the edge, displaying himself better to the Duke. Prosper took his cock in hand, stroking it slowly, his thumb rubbing over the head of his cock. Jean whimpered as he arched into his own fingers, thighs tensing as he bent.

“Will you join me?” He breathed, fingers slipping free as he sat up. He let his legs sit wider, his cock jutted out at the junction of them, flushed red and leaking slightly.

“No.” Prosper smiled, behind a hand. Jean opened his mouth, fluttering it closed when he couldn’t create a sentence. _Did he just want to watch? That’s no fun._ He stood then, walking over to Prosper with his hips swaying, and still lazily rubbing his cock.

“Then I should join you. Yes?” Jean whispered. He wiped any excess oil over his stomach and leant down over Prosper, hands on either side of the chair. Prosper pulled away as Jean meant to kiss him, he took that as an offence, he was a good kisser. “Should I ride you, Ser? Or should I-”

“Get back on the bed.” He hissed. Hand splayed across his chest and pushing him away. Jean grumbled as he climbed back on the bed, maybe Cyril would have been better, his cock was weighty enough. “On your front.” Jean bit his lip and dispelled thoughts of Cyril and he rose onto his knees, his cock swaying between his legs as he rolled his balls in hand. He watched as Prosper rounded the bed, spreading some oil over his cock before he returned to stand behind Jean.

He could feel the head of Prosper’s cock almost instantly, warm and oiled against his entrance, he sighed as it slipped inside. Inch by inch he was filled, Jean moaning at the size of Prosper, thicker and longer than his two fingers easily. Prosper’s leather clad hands roamed up his spine, and gripped him about the neck, pushing his face down into the sheets. He pressed on his upper back making him arch and grunt at the awkward position. Prosper rolled his hips slowly, sighing as Jean tightened himself around his cock, grumbling into the bedsheets.

“Spread your legs wider.” Prosper commanded, and Jean did by slipping on the soft sheets until they could stretch no further. “Open yourself.” Jean balanced his weight on his shoulders as his hands crept back, one of each of his arse cheeks and gripped them, pulling them apart and giving Prosper permission to enter deeper. He began to thrust harder now, softly laughing at the way Jean’s upper back flushed with the strain of the position, the man’s grunts and moans stifled by the way his face was pressed down by his own weight.

Jean’s nails dug into his own flesh, trying to keep purchase as he began to sweat. His muscles aching and protesting. But his body was singing. His cock was too sensitive in the air of the room, constantly bouncing, even gracing his stomach as the Duke roughly thrust into him.

“You’re being such a good boy Monsieur, so well behaved.” Prosper jested, tugging off his glove with his teeth. Jean hummed and mumbled against the bed, whimpering as he felt a finger trail down his spine and into the valley of his spread cheeks. Prosper let his cock fall free and placed one finger in it’s wake. Jean grunted, turning his head to look at Prosper, his eyes fluttering closed as his cock was pushed back inside along the digit. Jean whimpered loudly as one hand gripped at his waist and the Duke began to hammer inside of him.

“Prosp- Maker.” He yelped. Mouth wide open and heaving in air as pleasure rolled over him. The head of his cock grazed his belly with every thrust, Maker it was too much.

“Do not come, Monsieur.” Prosper grunted. His thrusts sped up, and his rhythm fell loose and his orgasm came upon him. The warmth curling in his gut as he brutally thrust inside of Jean, pressing into the hilt and spilling his seed. Jean whimpered at the heat spreading inside of him, his cock a fire between his legs. Prosper stuttered out a few thrusts before slipping out, the few last droplets leaking over Jean’s cheeks and rolling down his spine. “Perhaps you should clean up, yes?”

Jean mumbled into the bedsheets as he let go of his arse and re-situated his weight. His shoulders and lower back protesting in agony.

“I haven’t…” He moaned, over sensitive.

“And you won’t. That is, if you wish to be a good boy, no?” Prosper finished for him. Jean watched him tuck away his cock and close his breeches. Leaving the room with a smirk and a healthy flush.

“Bastard.” Jean grunted. He picked up his clothes and slipped into them, groaning at how Prosper’s seed leaked from him into his underthings. He leant down to look into the vanity mirror, his dark hair had curled even further with exertion, some strands had become wispy and stood out in every direction. He sighed as his cock was awkwardly tucked into his clothes, the head trapped under the hem of his high waisted breeches. Jean pulled at his thin moustache, rolling the tips into angled points before smoothing down his clothes.

The door opened behind him. This time he turned before blurting out something he couldn’t lie his way out of, aesthetics and presentation be damned.

“Ah, Jean, the guests kept me busy, I’m so glad you found your way here.”

“Cyril?”

“Who else would I be?” The man scoffed and walked over, hands reaching for Jean’s hips.

“Perhaps another time,” _when I’m not covered in your father’s seed._ “I had forgotten I had made arrangements with a friend already. Apologies, Cyril.” Jean bowed and scurried out the room, flushed and rubbing at his neck. A private bath was in order.

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully I tagged this right,,,,,,╰(*´︶`*)╯


End file.
